Doubt
by changinlndscape
Summary: Ep 7x01 post ep. Beckett's still feeling some doubt.


A/N: So, I know some will disagree but I loved last night's ep. I started to read some post epi fics, but decided to write one before I read too many. Haven't seen this angle out there, but if some one else has written it, I'm sure they wrote it better. :) Eh... this is pretty angsty. I can't apologize. Immediately follows 7x01.

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**Doubt**

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Castle was stretched out on his stomach, one arm flung over Beckett's waist, heavily asleep. He usually slept well, so different from Beckett's own twitchy sleep patterns, but his breathing was even deeper than normal, his face pressed into his pillow with extra weight. Beckett watched his chest expand slowly with each long inhale, and the way the ends of his hair fluttered over his face when he exhaled. His skin looked yellow, the darkness of the room hiding the remaining tint of sunburn, and the day's worth of stubble stood out like the coarse grit of sandpaper on his chin.

Hesitantly, moving in tiny increments so as not to wake him, Beckett stretched out the fingers of the hand that had been tucked under her chin to reach toward his. The first scrape of stubble on her fingertips had her jerking her hand back with a quick intake of breath that felt too much like a sob. A few minutes ago she had convinced herself that she was finished crying, but she felt two new tears tail hot streaks down her face. Breathing shakily, she twisted slowly in the sheets until she slid out from under his arm, paused to make sure he was still asleep, and sat up.

She couldn't be this close to him. It was so much after months of crawling into this bed alone, curled tightly beneath the heavy covers she bundled up around herself on his side of the bed. His body was too warm after only the cool press of her own arms wrapped around her knees to keep out the cold. It felt strange, in more ways than one.

She sighed aloud, cast nervous eyes over Castle's shape (_still breathing, still sleeping_), and stood. She watched him for a moment longer, looking for some kind of clue to identify the strangeness. Had he actually changed or was it the doubt that she felt casting a pale hue over his face? He had lost a little weight, not too much to worry, but otherwise he seemed the same. The same smile, the eyes that warmed when they saw her, the same logic fighting against her stubborn side.

But now when he spoke, she wasn't sure if she believed what she heard. _He didn't remember? _That was a story that was unsettlingly familiar; a story that still made the space beneath her sternum ache. She pressed her knuckles to the center of her chest and stared at him, each of them equally unmoving. She wanted to trust him, and she already loved him. It was too late to take that back or lessen the strength of it, and she didn't want to. She loved him. She loved him, and she didn't want to fight against it. But if she didn't she wouldn't be sniffling quietly in the dark of his bedroom, shivering in the cool air.

Why would he lie? She couldn't think of a reason that made sense. She wanted to dismiss it. But there was something that cracked sharply in the back of her mind whenever he said he didn't remember. She couldn't put her finger on it, couldn't define it, couldn't be sure of it. She wanted to ignore it so badly, but there was something there. Something she was missing, some piece of evidence she was overlooking. Something was off. Something between them even when he was reaching to tug hesitantly at her hand. And whatever it was, it prevented her from sleeping beside him tonight.

Swallowing jerkily, Beckett considered sleeping on the couch, but rejected the idea. She had no desire to talk with Martha about this doubt gnawing at her insides. Giving herself back over to silent tears, Beckett pulled a pillow off of the bed and dropped to the floor on her side, curling into herself and muffling her raspy breaths with her fist between her teeth, the pill of the carpet biting into the bare skin of her arm, and her feet tucked tightly together. After a long time, she fell into a restless sleep.

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Castle woke slowly in the dark, mouth and eyes too dry for waking and an incredible stiffness in his upper body. He pulled his arm closer to his body against the ache of sore joints, wiggling his fingers against the pins and needles in the waking limb. He was still in the same position he'd been in when he'd fallen asleep to the familiar sound of Beckett breathing beside him.

Where was Kate?

The arm that had been cradling her when he fell asleep was stretched out over the empty expanse of her side of the bed, fingers drifting across cool satin. He sat up, pressing the heel of his hand against his forehead and squinting to focus his eyes in the direction of the bedside clock.

5:00 am.

So, late enough that she might have gotten up to start their coffee or go for a run. Still too early, really; she needed her sleep, probably more than he did. Maybe he could convince her to go to sleep a little earlier tonight. Castle sighed, leaning forward and stretching his back and shoulders, grunting when his spine popped. He didn't feel like he could go back to sleep, but the weight of the day was already pressing down on him and he hadn't even gotten out of bed yet.

He was so tired. Stress and anxiety were taking a toll and to have Beckett so close to him and yet so _distant_... He knew she was having her doubts, and vowed to do whatever he could to lessen them today. He could start right now, he thought, and get some breakfast going. He didn't smell coffee, so he was willing to bet she'd be returning from a run any minute. She'd be tired, and sweaty, and if he was having any luck at all, she would smile that silly little smile that she used whenever he managed to surprise her.

Well. That might be too much to hope for. _Small steps, Castle_, he told himself. _Small steps. First, bathroom. Maybe brush your teeth_.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, ignoring his body's tense resistance, and strode toward the bathroom. He took three steps and stopped, frozen in his tracks. Beckett was curled up beside the bed, asleep but shivering and tense, muscles twitching. Her cheeks were pale and hollow and still damp from recent tears. _Silent tears_, he thought, _because she didn't want to wake me. Didn't want to confide in me. _He felt it like the sudden onset of illness; a cold chill that caused the hairs on his arms to stand on end and an acidic lurch in his belly.

His mouth pulled back in a sad, pained grimace, he crouched down beside her. "I'm sorry," he whispered, needing to say the words even as he was loathe to wake her. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." One hand holding him steady against the bed frame, he briefly touched the fingers of the other to the goose bumps on her shoulder, attempting to smooth out the ones he could touch. He pulled away when she stirred, hovering beside her. She whined, making a sound that reminded him of a crying animal, twisting his insides and pulling tears to the edges of his lashes. He remained frozen, and held his breath until she fell back into a fitful sleep.

Castle stood and pulled the soft old quilt from the chair in the corner of the room, draping it over her as quietly as he could. Maybe he couldn't calm her nerves or ease her doubts right now, couldn't soothe the torment that was causing her to cry in her sleep, but he could help her stay warm. He chewed his bottom lip, a habit he'd gotten from her, and wondered how long their relationship could withstand the deception. Kate was just too smart for her own good. Too intuitive, and too in tune to him. He couldn't keep this up for long.

"Not too long, Beckett," he whispered as he sat back on the bed, his toes snuggled beneath the edges of the quilt now swallowing Beckett's slight frame. He missed her warmth. He rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward against the weight of betrayal that was pulling at his chest, tucking his chin into the palms of his hands so he could watch her sleep. "I just can't tell you yet. I've gotta keep us safe."

He let his upper body fall back into the bed, toes still tucked beside her. "I'm sorry," he whispered again, the sound rasping out into the indifferent silence of his bedroom.

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..(end)..

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Thanks for reading!


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